samples, which he carries in a suit case?" "He _says_ that he has samples of Georgia marble in his suit case," replied the Tracer cautiously. "It might be well, if possible, to see what he has in his suit case." "I will warn the servants as soon as I return to Rosylyn. When may I expect you this evening, Mr. Keen?" "It is impossible to say, Mrs. Stanley. If I am not there by midnight I shall try to call next morning." So they exchanged civil adieus; the Tracer hung up his receiver and leaned back in his chair, smiling to himself. "Curious," he said, "that chance should have sent that pretty woman to me at such a time. . . . Kerns _is_ a fine fellow, every inch of him. It hit him hard when he crossed with her to Southampton six years ago; it hit him harder when she married that Englishman. I don't wonder he never cared to marry after that brief week of her society; for she is just about the most charming woman I have ever met--red hair and all. . . . And if quick action is what is required, it's well to break the ice between them at once with a dreadful misunderstanding." 

CHAPTER XV 

The dinner that Kerns had planned for himself and Gatewood was an ingenious one, cunningly contrived to discontent Gatewood with home fare and lure him by its seductive quality into frequent revisits to the club which was responsible for such delectable wines and viands. A genial glow already enveloped Gatewood and pleasantly suffused Kerns. From time to time they held some rare vintage aloft, squinting through the crystal-imprisoned crimson with deep content. "Not that _my_ word is necessarily the _last_ word concerning Burgundy," said Gatewood modestly; "but I venture to doubt that any club in America can match this bottle, Kerns." "Now, Jack," wheedled Kerns, "isn't it pleasant to dine here once in a while? Be frank, man! Look about at the other tables--at all the pleasant, familiar faces--the same fine fellows, bless 'em--the same smoky old ceiling, the same bum portraits of dead governors, the same old stag heads on the wall. Now, Jack, isn't it mighty pleasant, after all? Be a gentleman and admit it!" "Y-yes," confessed Gatewood, "it's all right for me once in a while, because I know that I am presently going back to my own home--a jolly lamplit room and the prettiest girl in Manhattan curled up in an armchair--" "You're fortunate," said Kerns shortly. And for the first time there remained no lurking mockery in his voice; for the first time his retort was tinged with bitterness. But the next instant his eyes glimmered with the same gay malice, and the unbelieving smile twitched at his clean-cut lips, and he raised his hand, touching the short ends of his mustache 

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